Harry Potter and the Chime of the Warrior
by touched-but-unbroken
Summary: Who is the Warrior? And what is his chime? Read on to find out . . . plus, a sneaky peak in Harry's diary at the beginning of every chapter! What more could you want? Please R&R! This is set after HBP and contains SPOILERS!
1. Dumbledore summons

Chapter 1 – Dumbledore summons

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to JKRowling, as do names and places. If all these ideas belonged to me, why would I be writing fanfiction?  
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A/N: I repeat; this is NOT pre-HBP!**

_Dear Diary,  
I just got a letter from Dumbledore. Which is increasingly strange, seeing as how he is dead. I am scared. I don't understand. Yeah, Dumbledore was a great wizard. He was a VERY great wizard. But, to my knowledge, NO wizard has EVER risen from the dead. Unless you count Voldemort, I suppose. Anyway, Dumbledore told me to go to McGonagall's office. The password is 'Sugar Quill', he told me. Well, I'd better go see what he wants. If he actually wants anything. If he's actually there. Oh no, someones coming! I'd better be off, anyway. I'll write soon! _

Harry jumped up off his bed, and quickly stuffed his journal into his broomstick servicing kit box. He hoped no one would find it. That journal held all his secrets. It had all his thoughts about Ginny in there. Even though he new he couldn't go out with her because Voldermort would target her, he still couldn't stop thinking about her. And yeah, he new that it was stupid to write his thoughts down in a journal. _Especially_ after what happened in his second year, with Ginny and Tom Riddle's diary. Still, it wasn't like he could talk to Ron about it, was it? Also, his journal held all his thoughts about Lord Voldemort, and how hemust defeat him. Harry shivered involuntarily at the thought of anyone knowing how scared he was about what must happen.

At last, his thoughts turned back to Dumbledore. What did he want, and why had he summoned him to Professor McGonagall's office? If he really had risen from the dead, surely it would be his office now. But he can't have risen from the dead. No one could. So many questions, whirling round Harry's head. As soon as he banished one thought, another one came jumping into his head.

"Are you alright Harry? You look a bit pale."  
Harry jumped and looked up. It was Ron.  
"Yeah, I'm OK, I 'spose. Um, I'm going to . . . McGonagall's office." Harry replied. He could feel Ron's puzzled eyes watching him all the way out of the room. He wouldn't tell anybody that he was going to meet Dumbledore. At least not yet. They would think he was mad! Maybe he was mad. Maybe he was imagining it all. Maybe he would be awoken in a moment by Ron's grumbling stomach. Maybe, but Harry didn't think so.

He passed Ginny in the common room. He smiled weakly to her. She frowned at him, and asked him if he was alright. Really, did he look that bad? He nodded and continued to troop out of the portrait door, his heart hammering, head still covered in questions; this time accompanied by thoughts of Ginny.

He walked for several minutes, not really looking, hearing, or caring where he was going. He bumped into several people, including a muscly Slytherin, but apart from that, the corridors were curiously deserted. At last he came to a halt and looked up, pulled out of his day dream. He was infront of the entrance to the headteacher's office. Harry struggled to remember the password.  
"Fizzing whizbees, chocolate frogs, flying saucers, sugar quill..."  
The gargoyles jumped open as Harry mentioned sugar quills, and Harry stepped onto the spiral staircase. When he reached the top, he knocked politely on the office door and waited.  
"Come in, Potter." a firm, female voice called out. Harry opened the door, and immediately saw the picture of Albus Dumbledore hanging on the wall opposite him. Of course! The paintings! How could he be so stupid? Dumbledore hadn't come back to life, he had just appeared in a painting. Harry mentally slapped himself into reality.  
"Harry, Dumbledore has a message for you, which _he doesn't trust_ me to pass on to you."  
"It's not that I don't _trust_ you Minerva, I simply wish to tell Harry myself, with no one else present."  
"Hmm, yes. Anyway, as I was _saying_ Harry, Professor Dumbledore wishes to speak with you. If it was anyone else, I would not oblige, but as it seems so important I will leave you and wait for you outside the gargoyles. And _do_ try and not take too long!" McGonagall said. She left Harry alone with the paintings, and Dumbledore began to speak.  
"Harry, I have important news. The Ministry have caught a Deatheater who calls himself the Warrior. He shields his face, we do not know who it is. We need to find out."  
"But surely if they put him in Azkaban, the influence will weaken his power and he will not be able to keep his shield?" Harry interupted. Dumbledore's portrait chuckled.  
"You always did ask many questions, didn't you Harry? You question is an important one, however, and I will answer it. You see, Azkaban is a place where people can only be held captive if your name is known. That is why so many of Voldemort's followers have code names. Such as the half-blood prince, one you must know. Anyway, if the true name of the person is not known, they cannot be held captive. For example, let's just say Voldemort was weak enough for us to catch and imprison him. We would not be able to hold him captive in Azkaban if we did not know his true name; Tom Riddle. The Ministry believe that the Warrior is a Deatheater which they know. They believe that if they saw his face, they would know his name. They need someone to lift his shield, yet none of the Ministry workers can do it."  
"So what do I have to do with this?" Harry interrupted; again.  
"Harry, isn't it obvious? You must go to the Ministry, you must lift this man's shield, you must send the Warrior to Azkaban, where he belongs."  
"I- I understand, Professor Dumbledore."  
"Than GO!" the portrait shouted, and Harry stumbled back out of the office.

Once he got to the bottom of the stairs, he met Professor McGonagall.  
"What did he want, Potter?"  
"I'm sorry, Professor, but I can't tell you. It is between Professor Dumbledore and me."  
McGonagoll snarled, and stormed back up the stairs to her office. Harry heard her shouting at Dumbledore's portrait, but then the door closed and he heard no more.

He walked back to the Gryffindor common room, thinking all the way.


	2. Arthur Weasley

_Author's notes: OK, I am unhappy at the way this story is going. But I know that I'll regret it if I give it up. So I'm going to redo this chapter, and then carry on as if nothing ever happened. If that's OK with you? So yeah, if you've already read this story so far and can't be bothered to read it all again, just read from the first line (excluding the line in-between my notes and the beginning of the chapter). You won't miss out on anything if you read from there. But by all means, read it all again if you wish. But review! Even if you think this stinks worse than a horse's ass (not that I expect you ever to have smelt one) then still review! How the hell am supposed to make it better if I'm not _told _which parts suck? So read and review, please, I'm counting on you!_ Chapter 2 – Arthur Weasley

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_Dear Diary,_

_I am so stupid. It was Dumbledore's portrait that spoke to me. All the portraits of past head teachers hang in the head teacher's office. Anyway, he told me about a death eater called the Warrior, who the Ministry. He wants me to go to the Ministry and lift the Warrior's shield, so they can tell his name and send him to Azkaban. I don't know if I am up to it, I don't know if I can lift his shield. But I will try. It is better to try, and fail, then not try at all. Anyway, I have a plan. I have already sent an owl to the Burrow. Tonight after everyone is asleep, I will go down to the common room and use the Flue Powder that Ron's dad sent me to go to the Burrow. Then in the morning, he will take me to work with him, and I will go and visit the Warrior. It is better to try, and fail, then not try at all. Everyone's coming up to bed now. I'd better go._

Harry waited until his dorm mates had fallen asleep, then slid out of his bed. It was freezing. And the floorboards were squeaking a lot. Nevertheless, Harry managed to get to the common room without waking anyone up. He took the Flue Powder out of his pocket, and checked that he had everything. His wand, his invisibility cloak, the Marauder's map, his journal, he had everything. He sprinkled some of the powder into the fireplace, and the flames leapt up, turning green. He stepped in and shouted:

"The Burrow!"

He clamped his eyes together, and felt himself begin to slowly rotate. He spun faster and faster, his robes whipping around him like they would in a fierce storm. After a couple of minutes, he landed painfully on his knees, grazing them. His eyes stung, his knees stung, and suddenly his nose stung with the smell of wonderful cooking. He opened his eyes and looked up into the smiling face of Mrs Weasley. She hugged him tight and pushed him into a seat round the kitchen table.

"Arthur dear, Harry's here!" she shouted, then shoved a plate of bacon, sausage, and scrambled eggs under Harry's nose. Even though it was the middle of the night, Harry found himself hungry, and ate with greed.

"Harry! Good to see you again! Welcome back to the Burrow!"

Harry looked up. It was Mr Weasley.

"Is it all set, Mr Weasley? Can we go in the morning? Have you seen the Warrior? Do you know where I have to go once I get to the Ministry? Will I-"

"Harry, Harry, I know you're bursting with questions, but now is not the time for answers. I will talk in the morning, but now you must go to bed. You can sleep in Ron's room. Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight Mr Weasley, Mrs Weasley!"

Harry started up the stairs to Ron's bedroom, yawning. He smiled as he recognised the Chudley Cannons wallpaper. Harry collapsed on the bed fully clothed, and was immediately asleep.

* * *

In the morning, Harry was shaken awake early by Mr Weasley. As they were walking down the stairs, Mr Weasley told Harry to be as quiet as he could, because Mrs. Weasley was still sleeping.

They got down into the kitchen, and Harry sat at the kitchen table. Mr Weasley looked shifty.

"Erm, sorry Harry, but we're not having breakfast now. We'll get to the Ministry first. I'm not sure if there'll be time for breakfast before you see the Warrior or not, but if you don't I promise you'll get some afterwards. I'm afraid that you'll have to stay with me at the Ministry until my lunch break, when I'll take you back to the Burrow. Molly will make sure you get back to Hogwarts all right. Now, follow me."

Harry followed him out of the house and down the drive, where he could see a Ministry car waiting for them. They got in, and Harry sat nervously in the back.

"Mr Weasley-" he began, but was interrupted.

"Arthur, Harry, call me Arthur."

"OK … Arthur?"

"Yes Harry?"

"Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"Not at all. Fire away!"

Harry heaved a sigh of relief. "Have you ever seen the Warrior?"

"Actually, Harry, I have not. But Mr. Rime here-" he motioned at the driver "-has. I'm sure he wouldn't mind answering a few of your questions, would you, Ernie?"

"Be my guest," he said, then laughed a deep, hollow laugh.

Harry paused. "What's he like?"

"Oh, where to start? How about … at the beginning?"

* * *

_After Albus Dumbledore's death, he-who-must-not-be-named felt stronger than he ever had before. Wormtail had betrayed him (so was now dead), and he had acquired a new right-hand-man, going by the name of the Warrior. Lucius Malfoy was captured, and ensured his release by revealing the whereabouts of the Warrior, who had by then the most feared name aside Voldemort. Malfoy, was, of course, killed mere minutes after his release (which was part of the reasoning of letting him go). The Warrior was captured, but as officials soon found out, it was impossible to imprison him in Azkaban. The Warrior refused to talk, and was immune to torture. He put a shield around his face, but none could lift it. The Minister for Magic was confronted by Dumbledore's portrait, which asked about receiving the help of the famous Harry Potter. The Minister agreed and Dumbledore told Harry what he must do. Harry left the castle without even the new headmistress, Professor McGonagall, knowing. Harry's quest, is to find out the Warrior's true name.__

* * *

_

Harry furrowed his brow in concentration. _Dumbledore _had suggested acquiring Harry's help. Obviously, then, he though that he was capable of it. Whatever _it _was. He knew he was to find out the Warrior's birth name, but it wasn't going to be as simple as just walking in and asking him, was it?

"Do you know where the Warrior is being held?"

"I can't describe it to ya, but I sure know how to get there!" Ernie replied, and chuckled again. Harry decided that silence was best, and didn't say a word for the rest of the journey. He had a queasy feeling in his stomach, and he knew that it wasn't his breakfast talking.

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	3. The Squib Who Knew Too Much

_Author notes: Sorry for not updating for a long time; had lots of work/ illness/ writer's block/ yadda yadda yadda. Before I start this chapter, I'd just like to say that I'll be renovating all the chapters for all my stories after I've put this one up. You don't need to read them again; I'll just be tidying them up and correcting mistakes etc. Well, I guess all that's left to say is… enjoy!_

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Chapter 3 – The Squib who knew too much

As soon as they arrived at the Ministry of Magic, Arthur Weasley signalled to a tall clerk behind a desk. Said clerk peered over his clipboard at Harry, and then waved a hand, turning to the next customer in the queue. Arthur pulled Harry out of the hustle and bustle, and into the nearest elevator. After the doors closed and Arthur pressed an impatient hand on the 'Down 5' button, Harry cleared his throat.

"Mr. Weasley… sorry, Arthur… well, last time I came to the Ministry, there was lots of security checks and things like that. Why didn't that happen this time?"

Arthur smiled at him. "Well, that's for two reasons. The first, and lesser of the two, is that with the current situation with the Warrior, security has become a bit lax. The second reason is that… well, frankly, the Ministry are in a bit of a rush to get this Warrior business sorted out, so they put the security desk clerk on a special look out for you and I, and was ordered to let us straight in, no hassle. This works out good, as I'll have time enough to get some work done early so that I can accompany you home at lunch time."

The lift fell into silence as they descended. They stopped at the floor below, to allow a thin, purple robed man, who was carrying many boxes, to stagger in. Along with him came a paper aeroplane, addressed to Harry Potter in red ink. With a glance at Arthur, Harry unfolded the plane. His big eyes scanned the page, and then he read it again, more slowly this time.

* * *

_Dear Harry Potter,_

_It is with regret that we write to inform you that your meeting with the Warrior has been delayed until this afternoon. If it is OK with Mr. A Weasley, it would be of assistance for you to stay with him until lunch break. After lunch, you must be escorted to The Minister for Magic's office, for your briefing concerning the Warrior. From there you will be escorted to the place where we hold the Warrior, to do what you can. When you are finished there, you will be returned to Mr. Weasley, who we believe has organised your return to school._

_Thank you for your help._

* * *

The letter was not signed.

"Delayed," Harry said vaguely. "My meeting with the Warrior has been delayed. Is it all right if I stay with you until lunch?" he asked, showing the letter to his entourage.

Arthur scanned the letter, nodding his approval. "We'll get off on the next floor, and then get another lift to take us up," he said.

There was something curious about the purple robed man. Harry wondered why he didn't just cast a charm on the boxes. He said so.

"I'm… I'm a squib," said the man, looking down at his feet, which he couldn't see because of the boxes. "I'm only here because I know too much."

Harry wanted to question him further, but the lift doors opened with a ping, and Arthur almost dragged Harry out. Thy stepped immediately into another lift, which was already occupied by a stern looking woman holding a clipboard and a chubby man who looked suspiciously like Uncle Vernon. Harry daren't ask Arthur about the purple robed man with these two imposing figures present, so he settled for silence, wedging himself in the corner so as not to get thrown about as the lift stopped and started.

Eventually they got off, and Harry followed his quick paced mentor down the surprisingly empty corridor, and into an office.

"Arthur…"

"You may call me Mr. Weasley, if you don't mind," he snapped. 'Mr. Weasley's' abrupt change in personality made Harry start, and it made him even more curious about the man from the lift.

"Mr Weasley? That man in the lift. Was he-"

"I don't want to talk about it!" Mr. Weasley snarled, and sat down heavily in his desk chair, snapping it clean in two. With a strange growling sound, Mr. Weasley jumped up, brandishing his wand. For a moment, Harry thought he was going to be attacked, but Mr. Weasley just shouted a repairing spell and sat back down, staring at an empty picture frame on his desk.

Harry's thoughts were muddled. Who was the purple robed squib who knew too much? Why had it put Mr. Weasley into such a flying rage? And why had his meeting with the Warrior been delayed? So many questions…

* * *

Harry just sat at the back of Mr Weasley's office, willing away the time. Mr Weasley's red hot temper was still intact, and he didn't speak much. A golden paper aeroplane appeared through the door, and glided past Mr. Weasley's head to flutter to Harry's feet. Harry bent to pick it up, conscious of Mr Weasley's eyes on him, but the message leapt up into the air off its own accord, opening out as it did so. Harry stared at the page, willing his eyes into focus.

* * *

_Dear Harry Potter,_

* * *

The message began, just like the first. However, from then on, the message was not so polite.

* * *

_Where the hell are you? You should have had your meeting with the Warrior hours ago! We've only just been able to send this message, because there was some kind of blockage round the lifts. What's holding you up? Dumbledore said we could rely on your help. Now get down here as fast as you can!_

* * *

Just like the first time, the letter was not signed, although there was some strange kind of seal at the bottom. Harry was confused. The letter fell to the floor and crumbled to ash. He quickly relayed the letter's contents to Mr Weasley. On hearing the strange message, Mr Weasley's personality change was instantaneous. He was his old self again. The two of them were silently puzzling over what to do when they heard a soft raspy voice.

"There you are!" Both occupants of the room immediately looked to the door, then Mr Weasley to the desk. Harry followed his gaze, and saw that the empty picture frame on the desk was now occupied by the portrait of Albus Dumbledore. Harry smiled a greeting, then frowned when he saw the look of concern on his old mentor's face. "You two must come quickly!" The portrait continued, giving the vague illusion that he was out of breath. "Something is amiss; there's something very wrong here at the ministry. Very, very wrong. Harry, grab the letter that told you of the delay to your meeting. Yes, yes, I know about the letter," he added at Harry's puzzled look. "Now add the ashes of the letter you just received." Harry did as he was told. "Now get out your wand, and while pointing it at the envelope, repeat this:

_Tale of old and ash of new_

_Point the way_

_Good and true!_"

Harry recited the incantation, thoughts muddling in his head. The envelope rushed out of his hand and began to spin very quickly in the air.

"Now," Dumbledore continued, above the rising volume of the wind. "Arthur, the wind will stop in a moment, and an arrow will appear. As long as Harry keeps his wand out, it will guide the way to the Warrior. Follow it with Harry, and help him fight off the trouble around the lifts. I have given you as much help as I am able. Use your heads!" Dumbledore finished with a final scream, his picture fading. In its place was a growing black dot, which twisted and turned, and then began to pile out of the picture frame. Harry screamed, and he and Arthur ran out of the office, following the wind that had now formed a long slender arrow. Arthur slammed the door behind him, as noise erupted around them.

"That's odd," Arthur commented loudly as they ran. "Someone must have put a silencing charm on my office; we would have heard all this otherwise!" Harry's brow furrowed as he ran on. They got to the lift and the doors opened automatically, revealing a sticky purple substance covering the floor. Harry shouted in surprise and took a step backward, bumping into Arthur.

"Let's try the stairs," he said.

"I checked on the way past, they're full of people; there's no way we'd get down there in time." Arthur replied.

Harry sighed. "Can we apparate?"

This time, it was Mr Weasley's turn to sigh. "I can't," he said, showing Harry a tag around his neck. "I got this earlier this morning. It's a indenture ticket saying I'm forbidden from apparating for fifteen days. They didn't say why. That's partly why I was so angry this morning. I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Harry replied, closing his eyes in despair, wishing everything _was _all right. "Is there _any _other way to get down stairs?"

"Not that I can think of," Arthur replied creasing his forehead. "And the arrow does seem to point to the lift." Harry braced himself, then climbed into the lift, balancing his weight on the bars so his feet didn't touch the floor. Arthur hesitated, then followed suit. The arrow flew in afterwards.

The lift doors closed automatically, and they started to go down. Shortly afterwards, the lift stopped completely, and the lights turned off. The doors remained closed. There was a dull lilac glow coming from the arrow, just enough so they could see each other's faces.

"Bugger," said Mr Weasley. That one word said it all.

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_Author Notes: Again, sorry for the delay of new chapters, I hope you enjoyed this one. I appreciate all the reviews I get; which is not many, seeing as a lot of you have given up on me, and my friends can't be bothered to review, so yeah, great. But please please please if you've read this chapter, give a little of your time and review! I gave you my time by writing this, and for a sort of… payment for reading this, I need you to review! Even it's just criticism, as long as it's constructive, I don't mind! I need your views and ideas in order to make this story better! _And _my other stories! Come on people, put a smile back on my face!_


	4. Neither Can Live Whil The Other Survives

_Author Notes: You **cannot **say that I took a long time to update this time! I deliberately took time off writing my other fan fictions to write another chapter for you faithful readers of Harry Potter and the Chime of the Warrior. Thank you so much for your reviews- Yay! Reviews!- and some of your comments just blew me away, thank you so much, you could never understand how much I appreciate them. Thanks in particular to Misty-Eyed Pixie and Hnz786. I would appreciate it a lot if you could leave me your ASL? Age sex location. Coz it's nice to know what kind of people read my fics. That ok with you? Alright, here's the next chapter!_

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Chapter 4- Neither can live while the other survives

Harry closed his eyes, his temples throbbing. He tried his best to hold back the anger, and instead a sigh rose up in his throat. He opened his eyes again when he heard a yelp, and to his surprise he found Arthur Weasley standing ankle deep in purple goo.

"I fell off," Arthur admitted. "And now I'm stuck." Harry felt like crying; things were going from bad to worse. They had jumped straight out the frying pan and into the fire. Arthur lent across to the door, and pressed the emergency exit button. The doors stayed firmly shut. He tried to prise the doors open with his bare hands, but they wouldn't budge. Harry noticed that every minute they spent in the lift they were getting hotter and hotter; and seeing as they were in a metal box, it was as effective as an oven.

The metal hand bar Harry was clutching to keep him out of the goo was scalding his hands; he'd felt pain before, from the hands of his aunt and uncle, but he had never before hurt so much, aside from the pains in his scar sent by Lord Voldemort. No sooner had that thought crossed his mind, than his sweaty forehead blazed with pain.

It was too much for Harry. The heat, his burns, and his fiery scar all burnt into his mind, and he blacked out and slumped on the floor, using the purple goo as a cushion for his troubled mind.

* * *

_A horribly disfigured man wearing a black cloak passed in front of his vision. Red, fiery eyes turned and bored into his head, and two bony white hands pulled out of their sleeves to snake towards him. Smoky black lips parted, to form these words in a dull whisper:_

"_You will never get out. You are trapped. I will kill you. I am Lord Voldemort. I Will Kill You."_

_He said the last sentence as if it were the capitalized title of a book. A dull ringing sound filled the young boy's ears, and he sat up straighter in order to hear the next words of his captor._

"_Neither can live while the other survives."_

_Those seven words sent a chill down the boy's spine. They were very powerful words, and he knew that they had a very important meaning, but in his fallen state, the boy could make neither head nor tale of it. He shook his head and rolled over, groaning, only to be kicked back into his original position by a thin bony leg. When he was again lying on his back, the tall figure bent down, so his red eyes were level with the boy's green ones. Those next few seconds they stayed like that, looking into each other's eyes, staring each other out. In the end, the red eyes won, as the boy pulled away from the visual embrace with a whimper. Lord Voldemort laughed, although it was more like a cackle, and stood back up again, calling over his shoulder some words that the boy couldn't hear, for he was still curled up in a ball, eyes shut tight, trying to rid him self of all the memories that were flooding back to him. There was a sudden wind, and the boy's eyes flew open in answer to no will of his own. In the sky was a large face of a man. It was scarred and bruised, and no extent of magic of the highest quality would be able to fix the slanted features of this mismatched face. The boy found that if he looked at the head out of the corner of his eye, its composition changed, although it was a little blurry and he found that as soon as he looked away, he had forgotten the image. It was like it had been swiped from his memory. The image of the face when looked at directly, however, was a different matter. It was disgusting, but the boy found that when he closed his eyes, the image was seemingly imprinted in the backs of his eyelids. Again, his eyelids flew open, and he found that the face in the skin had floated down so that it was only inches above his face. It began to speak, and the boy could feel its breath hot on his face._

"_You come to me," the figure chuckled, "but once you get here, you will never. Ever. Return." With a final chuckle, flecks of saliva flying off its bottom lip and hitting the boy in the face, the head disappeared with a small pop. The boy looked around, and saw that the cloaked man, too, was gone. He was left alone. Curling up in a ball and moaning softly, the boy vaguely wondered what the sticky substance under his head was._

* * *

Harry woke with a start. There was a dark figure crouched over him, and he instinctively lashed out, meeting no dark forces of resistance. His hand hit skin with a cruel slap, and when Harry's vision cleared he was sorry to find Arthur Weasley crouched over him, clutching his cheek.

"I'm… I'm sorry," Harry stammered, mind still reeling from his strange dream. He quickly relayed its contents to his companion, and then realised that he was lying on purple goo. To his surprise, he wasn't stuck to it, as Mr Weasley had been, but he found that he could peel himself off rather easily; although it did leave a rather nasty purple stain. "What's our situation," he asked, after checking himself over. He had some rather nasty welts on his hands, and his back was sore, but apart from that he seemed to be fine.

"Well, we're still stuck in this ruddy lift, and _I'm _still stuck in this awful gooey stuff, no matter how hard I pull at my feet. You fainted about an hour ago, and you've been wailing softly ever since. Proper unnerving, it was. Wasn't even proper screaming, just this really soft shouting. So soft, that I couldn't make out the words. I tried my best to wake you up, I really did, but it was like you were under some sort of charm, nothing would work. And it's been getting hotter and hotter in here. No magic spells work on the door. What I want to know is when are they going to get us out of this hell hole?" Only now did Harry realise that Arthur had taken his shirt off, and realised his own was clinging to him.

"Well, that… that scary face in the sky… I think he was the Warrior. He was really deformed, but when I looked out of the corner of my eye, he changed. I couldn't see it completely, because it was blurred, but what I _did _see, I forgot immediately afterwards. It said… he said… 'You come to me, but once you get here you will never, ever return'." Harry recalled the words with a shudder. "That… that implies that we will get to the Warrior, so we must get out of here somehow." As if on his command, there was a ping, and the lights sprang on. At once the lift continued its descent and Harry suppressed another shudder. "How we get out after we've found him… I don't know." Harry starting convulsing, and once again found him self on the purple sticky floor. Two firm hands caught him under the armpits and hauled him back to standing.

"Are you sure you're well enough for this?" Arthur asked, unconvinced. "Once we get off, we can always try and find another way out. I don't care if I get sent to Azkaban; you just say the word and I'll apparate you out of here."

Harry shook his head. "No. I have to see the Warrior. Whatever it takes. I have to find out who he is. I have to send him to Azkaban, when no one else can. I'd rather die myself than leave the world to the horrible fate of this man."

"Then I'm coming with you," Arthur decided.

Harry groaned and shook his head again. "No. Don't put yourself in unnecessary danger. Your family needs you."

"It's not unnecessary," Arthur said firmly. "This is very, very necessary. As for my family needing me… I'd rather die myself than leave you to face the horrible fate of this man alone." Arthur attempted a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. Neither of the two occupants of the lift believed that they would get away from the Warrior alive.

* * *

_Author notes: dun dun dunnn! Hope you liked this chappy, please review! And please, if you don't mind, leave your age, gender and location in this wonderful world we live in. Coming up in the next chapter: Harry's inevitable meeting with the Warrior; but will he have to face him alone? Also if you don't mind, it'd be nice to have some guesses about what's going to happen in the next chapter? Thank you, and goodnight xxx_


	5. Amani Kravadi

_Author Notes: I wrote this chapter last night… well actually very early this morning. Damn insomnia! Couldn't sleep, so eventually I gave up trying and wrote this. This was the only story I could remember the last chapter of, so that's why there's another chapter for this one. I guess I'm kinda making up for the lack of updates on this story before. Well, here you are!_

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Chapter 5- Amani Kravadi 

Eventually the lift reached its destination. While they had been in the lift, they mainly remained silent, apart from one or two glad comments on the decrease in temperature. When the doors opened slowly, they realised just how secluded they had been while in the lift. Again, like after leaving Mr Weasley's office, noise erupted around them. It wasn't the same kind of noise as before, though. Upstairs, the noise had been of the hustle and bustle of people running away from something. There had been shrill screams, the cold slap of people out of feet on stone floor, and obscenities shouted to move people out of the way. Down where they were now, the noise was not human. No, this floor had been evacuated of all Ministry officials long ago. Well, not _all_.

Even without taking one step out of the lift, Harry could see bodies strewn all over the place, all completely still, lost in a dream from which they would never return. There was blood splattered over the walls, and Harry had to work very hard to fight down the urge to vomit. The noise down here was of a cackle; one long, continuous cackle, never stopping, never wavering in its spine chilling tune. No, that wasn't human at all.

It was dark down here. There was a vague light everywhere, with no apparent source, but apart from that, it really was quite dark. Harry tried casting the Lumos spell with his wand, but although its tip did light up, the light it shed was very dim, and didn't go far.

As Harry stepped hesitantly out from the lift, he felt a wave of nausea pass over him. That passed quickly (although seconds later he heard Mr Weasley retch) but there was a lingering sense in the air that made Harry see purple stars, and he had an overwhelming urge to end it all there and then. He unconsciously turned his wand and pressed the tip of it against his chest.

"Avad-" Harry realised what he was doing, and pulled his hand away, breaking into a cold sweat. That could have been the be all and end all from the hands of his very own wand; his very own hand, even. He turned around, wondering what was taking Arthur so long.

"I'm … stuck … in this bloody … goo," Arthur gasped, in between attempts to pull his feet out of his shoes. Harry felt a mixture of relief and anxiety. He hadn't wanted Mr Weasley to come with him and get himself killed, but now the thought of venturing into the dark, blood splattered lair of the Warrior alone was a less than inviting one. "No problem," Arthur carried on. His change of tone was rather unsettling. "I'll just cut my feet off."

Harry began to marvel at his best friend's dad's ability to keep a sense of humour in a time like this, before he realised, as his companion conjured a large machete, that he was deadly serious. Harry realised that it was something to do with that wave of nausea; after all, only minutes before he'd been trying to kill himself. He jumped forwards and grabbed the knife. Mr Weasley was much bigger than Harry, but he had been bent over at the time, and Harry had the element of surprise, winning the machete over easily.

The machete was heavy in Harry's hand, and it carried a faint whisper of death Harry felt safer with it in his hands, as if he was in less danger of being killed if he had more means with which to kill his opponent. Or himself …

By that time, Mr Weasley had recovered, and he, too, was sweating from the experience.

"Thank you, Harry," he said, running a hand through his hair. Neither of them said anything, too shocked about the last few minutes for words. Finally, Harry broke the silence.

"Well, I guess I'd better … er … go … and, er … do something … to, er … you know …"

Ron's father nodded. "Are you sure you want to go through with this, Harry? It's not too late to back out," he asked hopefully.

Harry closed his eyes and shook his head. He'd thought it through, and decided that he had to do this. Two things had aided his decision. The first was that he had complete and utter faith in Dumbledore. Dumbledore had sent him to the Ministry in the first place, and he had taught Harry the spell to create the arrow… The arrow! Harry had forgotten about it. He looked into the lift hopefully, but there was only Arthur and the goo. Harry sighed, defeated. The second thing that had aided his decision was that … well, contrary to what Mr Weasley said, Harry believed that … that it _was _too late to back out now. Ever since he had been born, and branded with his horrible scar, Harry had been fated with every person he met, and every move he made. It was his destiny to make friends with Ron and Hermione. And it was not by chance that their curiosity led them past Fluffy the three headed dog, and a second time into the Chamber of Secrets, a third on their time turning escapade, not to mention Harry's adventures in the Triwizard Tournament, in the Department of Mysteries, and only last year with Dumbledore in their searches for Voldemort's Horcruxes, which brought on Dumbledore's weak state, later causing his demise. Yes, every second of Harry's life up until this point had been written out neatly as a book, before Harry was even born. Harry shuddered as he wondered how the ending might read.

* * *

It took a while, but in the end Harry managed to convince Arthur that there was no way he could come with him. Defeated, Arthur consented, but would not agree to going back up to the floors above; he would wait there until Harry's return. 

Briefly, Harry wondered how he would know which way to go. Then he realised that still ringing in his ears was that awful cackle. He guessed he just had to follow it? Well, he could think of no better plan, so he wished Arthur Weasley farewell and headed down the corridor in which the evil laughter seemed loudest. The 'vague light' disappeared in this corridor, and the light from Harry's wand wasn't even enough to see his hand in front of his face, so he navigated the corridor by feel. To his frustration, when he reached what he judged to be halfway down the corridor, the laughter stopped. An eerie silence filled its place, which Harry found he liked even less than the cacophonous laughter. He wondered how he would find his way from here.

So lost in his thoughts was he that he tripped on a lose stone, and found that if he had flown any more millimetres forward then he would have hit his head on the wall. From the influence of the fall, his wand had flown out of his hand. Luckily, the tip was still illuminated, and as he bent to pick it up, he saw a jagged red arrow painted on the wall. His mind raced with possibilities at what it could have been painted on with, but only one stuck out. Blood. This must be an arrow to the Warrior.

From then on, Harry moved more carefully. He felt for every next step tentatively with his foot before going there, and kept his wand to the wall, trying to find another arrow. It wasn't long before he found a fork, and he had to scrutinize each route so that he found the arrow. This time the arrow was gold. He made it to the end of the corridor; and found a dead end. He turned and went back, puzzled. Then he realised the gold arrow had been a trick. He had to look for the arrow of _blood_. He found it quickly, and entered, knowing that the gold arrow had been put there to try his nerve.

Harry saw a light at the end of this corridor, and quickly extinguished his own. He came out in what was a seemingly empty room, although part of it was cast in shadow. A figure stepped out of the shadow, and Harry recognised him as the face in the sky from his unusual dream. The Warrior. Just to check, Harry tried looking at him from the corner of his eye, and again saw a slightly blurry figure that he immediately forgot when he looked away. Even so, he was sure he recognised the figure. The Warrior spoke.

"Now you must die. My master couldn't kill you, so now I will. There's no one to protect you. My master will reward me greatly for this." He pointed his wand at Harry, and Harry fell over, landing painful on his back on a large rock. Harry's wand flew out of his hand, and he realised he was up against a mighty wizard. Ropes flew from the rock, binding him to it. He couldn't move. He was going to die. He watched as the Warrior drew something in the air. Then he turned to Harry.

"This is a spell I made myself. It's called Amani Kravadi. As soon as I cast my next spell, it will whisk me away to my desired location, not even bothering to let me see the results of my spell. Not that I _need _to see the results. I already know them; you'll be dead." Harry had no doubt about that, and closed his eyes as the Warrior turned his wand on him once again.

"Avada Kedavra!" Harry eyes exploded in green light, and he felt a great pain in his forehead, before he lay still, limp and unmoving on the cold floor. The Warrior was no where to be seen. He hadn't seen the results of his spell.

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_Author notes: Oh my God, even I didn't know this chapter was going to end like this! But it has! I would be grateful if you could leave your views on what just happened, and what you think will happen in the forthcoming chapters. I would leave a preview of the next chapter, but … I don't wanna! I know, I know, I'm evil! So sue me. Anyway, a big thanks to:_

_Hnz786, iluvromnce (not quite what you predicted, but I hope you enjoyed this chapter anyway!), Misty-Eyed Pixie (ooo, good guesses, but are they right? We shall soon see! Hope you liked the chapter! Thanks for your Boy With A Problem review as well!)._

_See you guys soon! xxx_


	6. Fawkes' Reverence

_Author Notes: I am so, **so, SO, **sorry about the lack of updating! But I have been really busy, with everyday things, school, and also writing, though you may not believe it :P. I've been concentrating more on my own stories recently (ie not fan fics, originals), some of which can be seen on and also on my beta reading skills (if you wish for me to beta read any of your stories, then feel free to PM or email me, or, indeed, leave a request in a REVIEW! Lol anyway once again so sorry for keeping you waiting for so long on SUCH A BIG CLIFF HANGER! On with the show…_

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Chapter 6- Fawkes' Reverence

Harry stirred, his body on fire with pain he had never felt before. There was a light shimmering in the distance, and he fought to reach it, but his body wouldn't obey him. There was a dark shape somewhere near him, and it was much closer to him, so he fought towards that instead.

Suddenly, his senses kicked in, as if someone had thrown a glass of water over him. He crawled through his memories, trying to remember what had rendered him motionless.

The Warrior! Harry looked helplessly around, but all he saw was the light. The spell! Amani Kravadi! It was still there… and what's more, so was Harry…

He looked around again, and tried to focus on the dark shape near him. It was a body. He crawled over to it, and turned it over, gasping.

Mr Weasley laid there, red hair significantly brighter than his pale skill. Glassy eyes stared into Harry, and he closed them gently with two fingertips. A tear fell down Harry's cheek and onto Arthur's own. There was no blood, no mark; that was not how the death curse worked. The curse that Harry should have taken. But instead, it had taken the life of another, the life of a man who he could have called a father.

Harry bowed his head, sobbing quietly. He attempted to lift the body, but was too weak.

"Where are you now, Dumbledore? Where are you when I need you?" he screamed to the ceiling, then turned his head sharply when he caught a flash of movement.

Fawkes the Phoenix flew over and landed on Mr Weasley's limp body, and began to cry.

"Fawkes!" Harry cried happily. "Can you heal him? Can you bring him back?"

The phoenix continued to cry, but it was several minutes before Harry realised Mr Weasley wasn't coming back. He blinked back his tears, and when he reopened his eyes, Mr Weasley was no longer covered in dirt and torn clothes. He was clean, and wore clothes that he could only have dreamed of when he was alive.

"You have honoured him well, Fawkes."

There was flash of light and a harness appeared around Mr Weasley. Harry understood what must happen. He hooked the harness onto Fawkes' leg, and the phoenix took off, vanishing with a crack. Harry stood again, shaking. He adjusted his robes, then strode towards the light, to spell, and began to inspect it.

* * *

After doing a few precautionary checks, Harry declared it to be safe. For some reason, the spell had not disappeared as Harry presumed it should have done after the Warrior left. Another presumption Harry had made was that it would now take Harry to same place as the Warrior had gone. Well, there was only one way to find out…

* * *

… Harry closed his line and stepped through the archway of light. Nothing happened. He opened his eyes, and to his dismay found that he had stayed in exactly the same place. He was just about to walk away when the floor gave way beneath his feet, and he fell through. 

But he did not fall through to the floor beneath. No, he was in a strange kind of vortex; it was dark and he was constantly spinning around, feeling as though he was falling down a never ending pit. It was a similar sensation to apparating or travelling by port key, although this was a much spookier experience.

Harry still had the weight of Mr Weasley's death attached to him, but he felt a strange glimmer of hope; the Warrior thought he was dead, and the Warrior also didn't think the spell would be left over. Therefore, Harry had the element of surprise, because any moment now Harry would be arriving at the same place as the Warrior had arrived not that long before. Whether this was a good thing or not, Harry wasn't sure.

Harry felt his descent slowing down, and realised he must be nearing the end of his journey. He shoved his hand in his pocket and clenched his fist tightly around his wand (which was, miraculously, still there). He put his other hands up to his face to cling on to his glasses; the last thing he wanted was for them to break when he landed.

* * *

Eyes firmly shut, hands clasped so tightly they turned white, Harry landed with a thump on a carpeted floor. He fell to his right, and hit his head on something painfully hard. White stars erupted in front of his eyes, and for a few moments he lay with his eyes still closed, until he heard distant voices which were uncomfortably familiar… 

A door banged somewhere nearby.

"Harry! Is that _you_? Where have you _been_?"

Harry gasped and his eyes flew wide open. He was lying next to his trunk at the foot of his bed… in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory…

"Ron?" Harry asked, groaning.

"Bloody hell, Harry! What happened to you?"

Harry shook his head, and then said vaguely, "Ministry… Warrior… the Warrior is here, he's here at Hogwarts!"

"Who's the Warrior?" Ron asked, looking at Harry as if he were a maniac.

Harry was just about to reply when a terrible thought rose to the front of his mind… and it nearly cam out of his mouth, too… he gulped, and then said with a shaking voice, "I'll explain everything in full in a minute, but… you have to know. Your dad… your dad Ron… he's…"

Harry fell silent, but he didn't need to say anymore, because Ron had understood perfectly. He sunk to his knees, skin pale, and mouth hanging open.

"He's… he's dead?" Ron asked, beginning to shake. Harry nodded glumly. "How… how did it happen?"

Harry had half a mind to tell Ron that he'd explain later, and that the Warrior was loose in the castle and McGonagall needed to know. But he felt responsible for Ron's dad's death, and felt that he owed Ron a full explanation, right here, right now.

* * *

Harry told Ron everything. About the message to go and see Dumbledore, about his correspondence with Ron's dad, how he'd gone with flu powder to the Burrow, then gone to work with Mr Weasley the next morning, about the Squib who knew too much, about the letters, and the purple goo, and the wave of nausea, and the arrows of blood, and the Warrior… he explained the concept of Amani Kravadi, and what he presumed had happened, and Fawkes' reverence… 

It was a relief to speak of these things. To get them off his chest, and out in the open. By the time he had finished all his explanations and apologies, they had been sitting there for quite a while. They had lapsed into a regretful silence, each enveloped in their own thoughts. Finally, Ron spoke.

"We've been here a while. Wasted a lot of time. We should go and see McGonagall." The hardened tone of voice he was using made Harry start, and he looked up, studying his friend's face. It was filled with grief, but underneath all the sadness was a hard resolve. Harry knew that Ron wanted to track down the Warrior even more than he did.

They stood and rushed out of the dormitory and down the stairs. Upon entering the common room, they saw Hermione wedged into an armchair with a pile of books on her lap. Upon seeing the boys, she shoved them off, and ran up to them.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. "Where _were _you? We've been so worried! Are you all right, Ron?"

"You explain," Harry said grimly to Ron. "I should go."

Ron nodded in agreement and Harry rushed out of the portrait hole.

* * *

Harry rushed through the familiar Hogwarts corridors, not caring nor really seeing many students stopping and staring at him. He reached the head teacher's office, and paused, remembering at last that he did not know the password. 

"Sugar quill?" he asked tentatively. The gargoyles remained unmoving. "Chocolate frog? Bertie Botts? Acid pops? Canary creams? Blood lollipops?"

The gargoyles sprung open, revealing a revolving staircase behind them. Harry raised his eyebrows at McGonagall's curious choice of password, but stepped onto the staircase nevertheless. When he reached the top, he knocked loudly on the door, which was yanked open almost immediately by Professor McGonagall.

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_Author notes: This is quite a short chapter, I know, only roughly 1500 words, but I'll try and extend them when I get back into the swing of things. Hope you enjoyed this chapter and _please _leave reviews! Anyway, I'll try and update sooner next time! xxx_


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